The lord of Henferester, faithful to old and patriarchal traditions, ate with his domestics. On his right was the place of Erhard Trusches, his huntsman; on the left that of Selbitz, his major-domo.
This last-named personage, having set the sauer-kraut to boil, and the venison to roast, aided Link, an old groom, in preparing the table.
As to women, they were never seen in the castle. Every Saturday, old Wilhelmina, the minister's housekeeper, came to make and bake the bread for the week, while the baron was at the council at Vienna. Wednesday, the other council day, she put in order the linen of the castle, always in the absence of the governor, who regarded the fair sex with profound dislike.
"The master is late to-night," said the major-domo, sadly looking at the quarter of venison, which was beginning to dry up.
"The night is dark, the rain is falling heavily, Master Selbitz . . . perhaps the chase will have carried the governor into the forest of Harterassen. . . . Master Erhard Trusches sent word this morning by Karl, the dog-keeper, that the baron was to hunt a wild boar; . . . and wild boars always start in the woods of Ferstenfak, gain the plain of Marais, return to their lair in the forest of Harterassen, and then are captured at the pond of the priory. All that would make a run of at least eight leagues, and as many to return, Master Selbitz." . . .
"And what with the night and the rain, and the bad roads of the forest, that is a long way. . . . But listen, Link," . . . said the major-domo, putting his hand to his ear; "is not that the sound of the governor's trumpet?"
"No, Master Selbitz, it is the wind blowing the weathercock." . . .
"What time is it?" asked the major-domo; for clocks were almost as unknown in the castle as at Otaheite.
"It must be between six and seven, Master Selbitz, for Elphin, the governor's roan horse, has been calling for his grain for some time. . . . Hark! listen! do you hear him? Patience, patience, old Elphin!" said the groom, coming back from the door. . . . "When your companions, Kol and Lipper, get back, you will have your supper, but not before, you old glutton!"
"This time it surely is the governor's trumpet," cried the major-domo. . . . "God be praised! What weather! Come! run and hold the master's stirrup. Link, while I go and throw some pine cones on the fire, to make a blaze."